


Soul Dragons

by cordelianoir



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Dragons finding soulmates, Feature prominently, Genji POV, Guilt, Jesse POV, M/M, Multi, Multiple Points of View, Mutual Pining, Nobody just mans up and talks about their feelings, Noodle Dragons, Soulmates, emotionally stunted ding dongs being forced to confront their feelings, hanzo pov, shenanigans ensue, slow-burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-05
Updated: 2019-07-10
Packaged: 2019-08-19 02:58:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 13,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16526015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cordelianoir/pseuds/cordelianoir
Summary: Hanzo loved all of his father's stories, but one story in particular was always his favorite:“Every dragon knows that there is one person on the planet perfectly suited for their master, a perfect complement of his or her soul. When the time comes, my sons, you will meet the women who complete your souls and your dragons will show you who they are.”Despite it all, Hanzo was utterly unprepared for the day when his dragons roared.





	1. One: Hanzo

When he was a child, Hanzo’s father used to tell him stories. 

His earliest memories consisted of sitting at his father’s feet, listening to stories about kitsune and kami. His mother sitting nearby, belly swollen with what would become Genji. Sojiro Shimada told his eldest son many stories in those days, in order to teach and to pass on traditions. He told stories that explained why elders must be obeyed and stories about why one mustn’t stay in the woods too late at night. 

But Hanzo’s favorites were about the Dragons. Because those ones were true. 

Hanzo had been born with the twin blue dragons wrapping around his arm. He knew the spirits that dwelled there on a personal level, as every Shimada heir had for thousands of years. Whenever his father began to speak of dragons, or mentioned the dragons of their ancestors, Hanzo could feel his own pair sliding beneath his skin. Hanzo would touch his fingers to the flushed skin and relish the feeling of scales moving just below his outer layer of skin. 

However, there was one story in particular he would beg to hear over and over again, first clinging to his mother’s arm and then, later, to Genji’s small shoulders. The younger brother never had the same fascination with the story that Hanzo did. Genji would fidget or beg for a story with more action, as he grew old enough to talk. But Hanzo would listen every time with rapt attention, like it was the first time he’d ever heard the story of how his parents had met. 

“I saw your mother across the room at a very important dinner,” Sojiro would tell his sons. “Her back was turned and all I could see was her hair, tied high on her head and her pale pink dress, the exact color of Hanamura cherry blossoms.”

At this point, Genji would inevitably start picking his nose, only to be stopped by their mother’s gentle hand. Their mother had her tattoo by then, a gray dragon curving up her spine to match her husband’s. But Mother’s dragon was different. Her dragon never came out to play.

“Slowly, I made my way through the crowd of people to get to her,” Sojiro would continue and Hanzo would imagine his father, younger and eyes full of wonder, pushing past important business contacts to meet the young woman who had captured his attention. In his mind’s eye, people parted in front of the young man, as if they couldn’t possibly stand in the way of his determination. 

“I tapped her on the shoulder,” Sojiro would say, mimicking the action on his wife’s shoulder with a smile, “And she turned around to face me and in that moment, my dragon roared.”

Hanzo would wiggle happily on the floor and Genji would flop dramatically backwards in an elaborate show of boredom. 

“Every dragon knows that there is one person on the planet perfectly suited for their master, a perfect complement of his or her soul. When the time comes, my sons, you will meet the women who complete your souls and your dragons will show you who they are.”

Hanzo spent long nights thinking about his future wife, his soulmate -- the person that would be his. Late at night, Hanzo would whisper to his dragons about it, ask them if they knew who his soulmate would be. But they would never whisper answers into his head. Instead they would curl around each other on the bed and inevitably forget how long they’d grown and end up tied in some sort of ridiculous knot. 

Hanzo was fifteen when he realized it wouldn’t matter, because whenever his dragons roared, it would be at a man. And a man would not be able to secure the next generation of the Shimada clan. For the sake of the clan, he would never be permitted to be with his soulmate.

Hanzo wasn’t sure when his father realized his eldest son’s tendencies but when the arranged marriage to the daughter of a rival clan was suggested, Hanzo agreed immediately. She was pretty in a traditional sort of way. She had long, straight black hair and her own spirit guardian, a red and brown fox curled around her collarbone. He wondered if her fox detested him as much as his dragons loathed her. 

He probably would have married her, if Sojiro hadn’t died that year. 

As the new head of the clan, Hanzo put aside all thoughts of marriage and dragons. Instead, he funneled all his energy into keeping the clan strong and together. He managed it, just barely, despite his brother’s frenetic energy threatening to tear it all down around their ears. 

In the end, it probably should have taken the clan elders longer to convince Hanzo to kill his brother. He was just so tired of cleaning up Genji’s messes. It wasn’t until Hanzo was washing the blood off of his blade that his hands started to shake and the reality of what he had done hit him. 

So he tore it all down.

It was too late, it should have been him and Genji side by side, ruling the Shimada clan and searching the world for their other halves. Instead Hanzo finished what his brother had started and brought down the only world he’d ever known. 

His dragons only tasted blood now. There was no time to consider anything else.

Not until a cyborg held a sword to his throat and he felt the dragons still beneath his skin for the first time in years. The world balanced on a knifepoint for long moments while waiting for Genji’s ghost to move the blade forward through his neck. It was a more merciful death than he deserved.

But the final blow never came. Instead, an invitation—an opportunity. A chance for redemption.

Hanzo tied up every loose end he could find and three weeks after the invitation was presented, he arrived at the dusty remains of Watchpoint: Gibraltar. The archer stepped off the transport into the dry heat of the late afternoon. As he gathered up his bag and bow case, the overexcited pilot zipped past him in a blur of blue light, followed quickly by the armored woman he had shared the last few hours with in silence.

Hanzo squinted against the too-bright light, scanning the area until his eyes settled on the lone figure left on the tarmac. A broad-brimmed hat, shaded the figure’s eyes from the sun and his thumbs stuck through his belt loops, framing a gaudy belt buckle that obnoxiously reflected the light.

“Hello there,” the man greeted, flashing a broad grin that showed off too many teeth stained by years of tobacco use. “Welcome to Overwatch, partner.”

Hanzo was utterly unprepared when his Dragons roared.


	2. Two - Jesse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jesse's thoughts and an awkward meeting

Jesse McCree, wasn’t quite sure how he’d managed to get saddled with welcome-committee duty, but he supposed it was better than getting caught helping Mercy set up the med bay or supposedly cleaning while Lena dashed around stirring up dust. 

The air was dusty and dry when the transport touched down in Gibraltar. Technically speaking, the area wasn’t cleared for flight activity anymore, but Jesse had surmised that the local air traffic control either hadn’t noticed or didn’t care about the sudden influx of illegal aircraft. (What he didn’t realize was that Winston and Lena had taken control of and shielded the skies of the region as soon as Gibraltar had been chosen as the rally point for the newly reformed Overwatch.)

At least welcoming people was always different. The recall had initially been sent out only to former members of the original Overwatch. But news spread quickly. Even before Jesse had arrived, less than a month after the recall notice, fresh faces had started to arrive. A young DJ from Rio tagged along with Reinheart and Lena had brought her girlfriend and Genji had arrived trailing some sort of omnic monk. Jesee felt a little hurt even that nobody had clued him into the whole bring-a-friend trend. Not that he had anyone to bring. The last few years had found him a rather lonely cowhand, all things considered. Maybe he'd have to dig up some info on his old partner...

His thoughts were abruptly brought to an end when the ship’s doors opened with a hiss and the newest recruits stepped out. The first face was a familiar one, albeit a bit older than when he had last seen it. 

“Fareeha!” Jesse exclaimed walking toward her with open arms.

“Jesse!” She said, wrapping him up in a bone-crushing hug. “You are a sight for sore eyes, my friend.”

“Could say the same for you, Ree. What the heck have you been up to?”

Before she could reply, a blue light zipped between the old friends. 

“No catching up without me! I want to hear all your stories, love,” Lena shouted before blinking around the cowboy so she was peering over his shoulder. “But you should really pick out your room first, before all the good ones get taken.” One more flash of light and Tracer was gone, back into the main building. 

As the only pilot currently in Overwatch, Lena had been flying all over the world, picking up anyone who couldn’t get there on their own. Despite the woman’s seemingly endless energy, she had been spending a lot of her time at the base passed out on various pieces of furniture. 

“Anybody else in that transport with you?” Jesse inquired, peering around the tall woman’s armor to look in the shadowed doorway. 

“Uh, sort of.” She responded, eyes darting back to the ship before pointedly looking elsewhere. “I’m going to take Lena’s advice and pick out a dorm for myself. Try not to kill him… I guess.”

Jesse found himself scowling at her retreating back. That was weird. And Jesse thought of himself has having a high tolerance for weird. 

He used one hand to adjust his hat and turned back to the transport to find a traditionally-dressed Asian man right behind him. 

Jesse was a grown ass man, and as a result he definitely didn’t jump. He most certainly didn’t let out an undignified squeak just because a man wearing knee-high metal boots had managed to sneak up on him. 

“Hello there,” Jesse said, trying to regain some assemblage of composure. “Welcome to Overwatch, partner.”

The other man didn’t answer. The only indication that he’d even realized Jesse had spoken was a slight widening of his eyes. The stranger looked Jesse over once, seemed to dismiss him, and let his eyes roam around the surrounds, nose wrinkling slightly as he took in the disheveled base. Even with his face scrunched up against the light and against the messiness of the base, Jesse couldn’t help but notice how handsome he was. His dark hair was pulled back from his face, highlighting the little puffs of white at his temples and the dark fall of his bangs. His eyes were dark and piercing and Jesse found himself wanting to do something, anything, to pull their attention toward him. One shoulder was bared revealing one dusky nipple and the most beautiful tattoo Jesse had ever seen. Dragons and storm clouds curled around his bicep and down the man’s arm to the wrist.

Still, he didn’t say anything and Jesse found himself wondering if his voice would be just as beautiful as the rest of him.

Maybe the man didn’t speak English. Or he was deaf. Or mute. Well, shit, Jesse was nothing if not considerate. He didn’t speak a lick of any Asian language besides the “Please,” “thank you,” and “do you speak English?” He did, however know a little sign language. 

He waved hello then started sign welcome and the words “Over” and “watch” quickly to get his point across. The other man, blinked at him slowly as if watching Jesse perform a strange foreign ritual. 

“I am looking for Genji Shimada,” the shorter man said instead. His voice was deep and resonant, tinged with the same accent Genji still had, but definitely in English. 

Now Jesse just felt like a fool for trying to communicate with an obviously international man using American Sign Language. 

His mouth opened once or twice without any actual words coming out. He tried to put together a response. Something like, “You came to the right place,” or “What’s your name?” but all that came out was a huff of breath when he realized yes, the newcomer’s voice was just as attractive as the rest of him. 

The Japanese man was now glaring at him like McCree was personally the source of all evil in the world. They stayed that way for a moment before a hand clapped onto McCree’s shoulder accompanied by a slightly synthesized laugh.

“Has my brother rendered you speechless, Jesse? I didn’t think such a thing was possible,” Genji said good-naturedly before turning to the newcomer and giving him a formal little bow. “Hanzo, I’m so glad you are here.”

The cowboy was still trying to recover from being snuck up on twice in five minutes, so he thought he should be excused for the time it took him to put two and two together. 

“Wait a gosh-darn second, your brother?” he said, perhaps a bit too loudly judging by how both the other men flinched ever so slightly. Everyone from Overwatch from the time that Genji was found knew the story of how the ninja had been found. Who had caused him to be found in such a state. And nobody knew it better than Jesse McCree.

To his credit, the cyborg didn’t miss a beat. 

“Yes, Jesse, I have invited my brother to join Overwatch. Jesse, this is Hanzo, Hanzo, Jesse McCree.”

Jesse, for his part was trying not to scowl too hard. He knew that Genji had experienced some sort of come-to-Jesus moment with those monks in Nepal, but this was ridiculous. 

Jesse had been one of the people that brought Genji’s body to Mercy that terrible night. He’d personally seen the bloody mess of meat clinging to life, had helped Angela tie a tourniquet around the hemorrhaging stump of his right leg. He’d watched as she’d massaged his heart back into rhythm. Nobody could be forgiven for doing that to a person, let alone their own brother.

Yet here Genji was, welcoming his would-be murderer with open arms. 

Hanzo's eyes turned back to the gunslinger, but this time all Jesse could see in them was the ruthlessness of a trained killer.

“You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’ me,” Jesse growled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up, our emotionally-repressed archer gets a moment to freak out before the real meat of the story begins! :)


	3. Three: Hanzo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super short chapter this time, sorry! The next chapter will be MUCH longer though, so don't worry :)

Hanzo sat on the regulation bed and gasped. He felt as if one of his dragons were trying to claw its way out of his ribcage. When he closed his eyes, he could perfectly recall the way that Jesse McCree’s expression had morphed from warm welcome into utter derision. And who could blame him? Who wouldn’t be disgusted with someone who had attempted fratricide?

Genji had broken the awkward moment by ushering Hanzo quickly around the base and into a tidy dormitory. The double bed was covered in a dark blue comforter and the walls were painted an unobtrusive eggshell. But there were little things that suggested Genji had prepared this room especially for his brother—had believed, or at least hoped, that Hanzo would come. A small rack by the door made of bamboo was placed by the door for shoes and two pet beds had been tucked into the corner for his dragons. They had not used such things since they were children and still learning to control their sprit dragons, but the thought was touching all the same. He could feel the pair straining at his skin, eager to investigate. 

Despite the role they had played in Genji’s supposed death, they didn’t seem worried by his presence at all. In fact they whispered in his mind, asking questions about their sister, Genji’s dragon.

“I will leave you to get settled,” Genji said after a moment. “There are many people I would like to introduce you to, but it will wait.”

Some small part of Hanzo wanted to reach out, take his brother in his arms and hold him there for just a little while longer. But that was a well-buried part of himself and the urge was easily quelled. 

“Thank you,” Genji’s synthesized voice said as he turned to leave, “for coming.”

Now Hanzo sat alone, trying to swallow around the lump in his throat. He forced himself up off the bed and made his hands unpack his few belongings into the chest of drawers. Then he slid his bow case and empty duffle bag neatly under the bed. The dormitory was very much like a hotel room – sparsely furnished and practical. There was a bed, a side table and lamp, a chest of drawers, a small closet and cramped bathroom complete with shower-tub combo and low water pressure. 

Slowly, the two dragons pulled themselves out from under Hanzo’s skin and wound around him on the lumpy mattress. They manifested themselves smaller than they did in battle, heads about the size of a beagle, but much longer. One stood on his hind feet to rest his front claws on Hanzo’s shoulder and chirrup softly in his ear while the other head-butted his abdomen. They were confused, wondering where their mate had gone. 

On some level, they must know what Hanzo knew. That there was no possibility of the man who had welcomed them becoming anything more than a begrudging ally. But they didn’t seem to care. Instead the twin dragons continued softly encouraging him toward the door, toward Jesse McCree. Towards a man who justifiably despised him. 

Hanzo buried his face in his hands and resisted the urge to scream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love to see your comments! Thank you so much to everyone who's left one so far, they really encourage me to keep writing. So thanks!
> 
> Next up we get to the real meat of the story in the longest chapter yet!


	4. Four: Jesse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Holy cow, they actually have a conversation this time!
> 
> Jesse pines and Hanzo's dragons are sneaky sneks.

One month into Hanzo’s involvement in Overwatch and Jesse was still trying to figure out how to approach the man.

The older Shimada was the same on the field of battle as he was everywhere else. Restrained, aloof, skilled and fucking gorgeous.

Jesse hadn’t been alone in doubting the value of having an archer on the team. Everyone had been concerned that a Paleolithic weapon just wouldn’t stand a chance against guns and other modern weapons.

Considering Genji’s mastery of swords and pointy death stars, the cowboy figured he really didn’t have any right to be as surprised as he was to see Hanzo’s form flying along the rooftops of their first mission. Time after time, Jesse aimed up a shot only to find the target slumping over with an arrow through their vital organs.

Jesse didn’t mind that. He wasn’t petty enough to resent another man’s skill. What he did resent, what made him spitting mad, was how attractive the man managed to look while doing it.

Jesse thought he cut a pretty dashing figure – six-shooter in one hand, flash-bang in the other, running and rolling through the battlefield, taking down enemies left and right. But that was before he met Hanzo Shimada. The archer climbed up sheer sides of cliffs and buildings without a second thought. He pulled himself onto ledges and had his bow back at the ready in an instant. His aim was impeccable; even at impossibly long distances, he hit his mark more often than not. And he looked incredible while doing it. His skin covered in a light sheen of sweat, one arm bare and unhindered while the silk scarf he used to tie back his hair fluttered in the breeze. No one had a right to look that beautiful while being that deadly.

And hell, if it didn’t push all of McCree’s buttons.

\---

Jesse had realized early on that there was no point in holding a grudge against the new member of the team. Hanzo hadn’t joined the rest of the team for dinner the first night after he had arrived, or any night since. Zenyatta had though, which was pretty weird since he didn’t eat. He sat on one side of Genji while Dr. Zeigler sat on the other. The three chatted and laughed together easily, as if there wasn’t a dangerous maniac that had tried to kill one of them in the building.

The meal had started with Genji standing up and announcing that he had forgiven his brother with the help of Zenyatta and the other Omnic monks, and wished only that he might forgive himself with time.

“I hope that you will all welcome my brother into Overwatch and help him adjust here,” Genji said. “I believe that he will need your help and friendship as much as I once did. I thank you all in advance for welcoming him and treating him with the same compassion that you’ve shown me over the years.”

And didn’t that just make Jesse feel like the biggest piece of shit.

It ended up meaning that he spent the next month fighting both his reservations and attraction to Hanzo. Jesse usually never had a problem talking to people. If anything, he had a harder time keeping his trap shut.

But around the archer, Jesse’s tongue was suddenly too heavy in his mouth, twisted up and useless. To date, his best attempt at conversation with Hanzo had just been McCree saying “Nice shootin’ out there,” and getting absolutely zero response. Hanzo had looked down and turned away with the most obvious I-don’t-want-to-talk-to-you vibe that the cowboy had ever felt.

Four weeks and three missions into Hanzo’s stay and Jesse could barely manage to get a passing greeting out of the man.

So when Jesse finally saw an opening, he pounced on it.

Well, “opening” might be a bit of an overstatement. Hanzo was standing in the shooting range, expertly sending arrows through the heads of each training bot. As Jesse entered, the archer pulled three arrows out at once, drawing then back and tilting the bow so they all landed perfectly in the left shoulders of three different bots.

Jesse let out a long whistle and clapped appreciatively. He wasn’t sure what the advantage would be to disarming bots like that, but damn if it didn’t look impressive.

Hanzo, for his part didn’t look surprised. If anything, he looked a bit pleased with Jesse’s reaction. The cowboy had the brief impression that the display had been due to his arrival, to impress him. He shook the thought off quickly. Hanzo had no reason to try and impress little old Jesse McCree. It was nothing but his own ego telling him these things.

“Mighty fine shootin’ there, Shimada,” Jesse drawled, leaning against the door.

The lights in the range were making Hanzo’s face look far more red than usual, Jesse noticed as the archer notched another arrow. Still, he didn’t reply. The fact that Hanzo wouldn’t talk to him, bothered Jesse more than he wanted to admit. If nothing else, Hanzo’s sonorous voice was soothing. Beautiful and deep, the way Hanzo spoke almost felt like poetry. Perhaps it was just they way that the archer had learned English, but Jesse liked to imagine it was just a natural facet of Hanzo, no matter what language he was speaking. Jesse desperately wanted that voice to address him. To see Hanzo’s mouth forming his name, to see those dark brown eyes considering him, as a friend, an opponent, as _anything_.

Maybe that’s what made him open his big fat mouth.

“Yer aim’s almost as good as mine.”

Big. Fat. Mouth.

First Hanzo’s eyes, slowly followed by the whole head, turned toward Jesse. And boy did he get what he wanted. Hanzo’s liquid brown eyes assessed him. They stared into the cowboy’s very soul. Jesse felt pinned by their intensity, flayed open and on display for Hanzo’s judgment.

His judgment came, after an impossibly long moment, in the form of a single word.

“Almost?”

Hanzo lowed his bow and finally turned his whole body to face Jesse. The Asian man’s head tilted slowly to the side, appraising an opponent as if he wasn’t sure whether or not he would provide a challenge.

Eventually, one side of his mouth quirked up into the smallest, most dangerous smile Jesse’d ever seen. It was a smile to make his knees weak. A smile he had the terrifying desire to taste.

“I suppose we will have to think of a way to assess which of us is the better shot.”

It was by far, the most Hanzo had ever said to Jesse.

Selfish man that he was, Jesse wanted more. More of Hanzo’s voice--more of his eyes, more of his smile, more of _him_.

Thankfully, he was able to keep these thoughts to himself. Instead, he just tipped his hat and returned the heated look.

“Well now, I reckon we will.”

Hanzo’s widening smile was enough to make Jesse regret his words and yet have no desire to take them back.

\---

Jesse woke up slowly. The blanket over his chest was heavy and warm, warding off the early winter chill sneaking in through the window and under the door.

He stretched luxuriously, letting the tips of his toes curl over the foot of the bed and his arms reach out toward the cool sheets to either side of him. Only, his right arm didn’t find cool empty sheets. Instead, it nudged a warm, solid weight atop the covers.

He blinked his eyes open, adjusting to the sunlight coming in through the ocean-facing window, only to find two large blue eyes staring back at him.

Jesse jerked, battle-honed instincts telling him to get away from the inhumanly blue eyes before his mind could catch up. As he moved, a weight atop his chest shifted with an unhappy little growl.

His head jerked to stare at his chest where he found himself nose to nose with an identical creature to the one lying next to him. The creature stared at him with unblinking eyes before a serpentine tongue darted out to tickle Jesse’s cheek.

He had seen Hanzo’s dragons before of course. But then, they had been enormous--beasts of pure fury unleashed on enemies and leaving destruction in their wake. These two looked more like elongated cats, happily basking in the sunlight streaming through the window onto Jesse’s bedspread.

But they were undoubtedly the same creatures.

They looked almost like blue hardlight, except far more organic. Their expressive faces looked peaceful and inquisitive, topped with little curved horns and surrounded with tufts of lighter blue fur. The one on his chest had curled over itself several times into a little coil. Its head rested on top, lazily staring at Jesse, tail thumping his ribs lightly. The one to his right was fully extended, lying on its belly like a lizard sunning itself.

Slowly, Jesse withdrew one hand from under the covers (his left hand, if he was going to lose a finger, he’d rather have it be metal rather than flesh) and extended it toward the dragon on his chest. The creature sniffed it carefully before rubbing the side of its head against the palm.

“Good, uh, dragon,” Jesse crooned softly. “What a beautiful dragon you are.”

The dragon looked inordinately pleased with the praise. Jesse scratched lightly at the fur and scales around the spirit’s face like he would with a dog or a particularly affectionate cat. He paid particular attention to the base of the horns and fur along the side of its face, crooning nonsense all the while.

“What a good, strong, handsome dragon,” he continued.

Apparently this was just too much for the dragon at his side, who wiggled up over his shoulder to force its face into Jesse’s hand for petting. The first dragon made an annoyed little chirruping sound and started crawling over its sibling to close the distance between it face and Jesse’s hand.

“Now hold up you two. I’ve got two hands, more than enough to pet the both of ya with,” he chuckled, bringing his other hand up from under the covers to give both dragons little head scratches. Both chirruped and preened at the attention.

“Now that we’ve got that sorted out, I don’t suppose you two can let me know what you’re doing in my room?” Jesse asked lightly, not really expecting an answer, but not entirely ruling it out either.

His knowledge of dragons was limited to what he’d seen in battle and read in fairy tales, but he knew it was always a mistake to underestimate the Shimada brothers. The dragons in his bed did not say anything, however. Jesse went back to thinking them of them as long cats.

He had seen Genji’s dragon a few time outside of battle. But then he’d only seen it curled up in Zenyatta’s lap or peeking out from the pocket of Angela’s lab coat and it had growled and glared anytime anyone else tried to touch. Hanzo’s dragons seemed friendlier. Apparently, the dragons did not share their master’s reserve. It was a bit ironic really, considering how much closer Jesse felt to Genji than Hanzo, that it was the elder brothers dragons demanding his attention.

Presumably, Hanzo could have sent them for some reason. But they didn’t exactly look like dragons with a mission. They looked cute. Contented and happy to be petted for the moment, Unfortunately, Jesse had other things to attend to.

“All right you two,” he said, gently easing them and the covers off of his chest. “My bladder can only hold out so long. A man’s gotta pee in the mornin’.”

The dragons made identical unhappy noises, clawed feet scrabbling for purchase on the moving blanket. They chased him onto the floor as he escaped to the bathroom, forcing him to close the door in their faces. He could hear their clacking away on the linoleum floor as he performed his morning constitutional in record time.

He emerged from the bathroom just in time to see one of the dragons fall off a chair, his belt clenched between its jaws.

“Hey now, that ain’t yours,” he grumbled.

Before he could think better of it, he had the little dragon in his arms, tugging the belt out of its jaws. He dropped it on the bed just in time for the dragon to climb up his t-shirt to curl around his neck. Its blue tongue darted out to lick at his beard. He pulled it off and plopped it onto the bed too, just in time to see the second dragon running under the bed with his hat.

“Hey!”

He ducked under the bed to find both dragon and hat covered in dust bunnies.

Jesse reached under the bed and got a good grip on the brim of his hat. He heard a soft click and a slightly louder chirrup before the dusty dragon abandoned the hat and darted up over the bed. It grabbed his belt and jumped off toward the door, using Jesse’s ass as a step down toward the floor. Jesse scooted out from under the bed with the hat in time to see both dragons bounding out the door with his belt clenched in their jaws. His belt buckle flashed in the morning sun almost like a wink goodbye to its owner.

“Son of a bitch!” Jesse swore, shoving the dusty hat onto his head and scrambling out the door after the thieving dragons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for sticking with me! I hope you enjoyed this longer chapter. The rest of the chapters will probably be more like this in terms of length. 
> 
> The next chapter is going to be a longer one again and a surprise! From Genji's POV!
> 
> Please, if you read, consider leaving a comment. They honestly make my day and I love to hear from you guys!


	5. Five - Genji

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genji's POV

Genji didn’t have many nervous mannerisms left from his childhood. Most had been trained out of him at a young age. The few that hadn’t had disappeared when half his body had been replaced with cybernetics. When he was very nervous, however, his right foot tended to tap.

He pressed his foot more firmly against the floor in an effort to stop the tapping. It only sort of helped.

He shouldn’t bee this nervous. By any estimation, it didn’t matter what Hanzo thought about his life choices. His brother had forfeited that right long ago. Yet some, deeply buried, part of Genji still longed for his older brother’s approval. He wanted Hanzo to be a part of his life again. Despite all the progress they had made together, tonight had the potential to screw it all up again.

Genji took a deep breath into his lungs, one human and one augmented. He used one of Zenyatta’s thought techniques to calm himself further. Even if Hanzo did not approve of his life choices, it was not the end of the world. Hanzo would likely stay with Overwatch regardless and this would not separate the two of them forever. Even if it did, it would likely be for the best. If Hanzo could not accept his brother’s happiness then he did not deserve to be in Genji’s life.

Still, that was easier thought than accepted.

Genji’s foot began tapping again.

Hanzo was formally dressed when he approached three minutes before the time they were set to meet. His hair was down and the blue button down shirt completely covered his dragons on his arm.

Genji himself had removed his faceplate and the rest of the armor surround his head. Part of his jaw was cybernetic but it was well covered with synthetic skin and Hanzo didn’t need to know where the bones of his face had been reconstructed. The pale flesh and raised scars of his face were enough for now.

“Otōto,” Hanzo greeted with a small bow of his head.  
He didn’t quite make eye contact with Genji, but neither did he completely look away from the exposed skin.

Baby steps, Genji reminded himself in a voice that sounded an awful lot like Zen’s.

“Thank you for joining me for dinner,” Genji said.

“Of course.” Hanzo had not lost any of his sternness, even if it was usually tempered around his little brother.

“I would like to introduce you to some very important people to me,” Genji said. It felt like his heart was climbing into his throat, pounding away up his augmented esophagus.

Hanzo’s eyes snapped up to meet his.

The archer’s eyes widened slightly, seeing too much in his brother’s eyes, even now.

“You have found your soulmate,” he said as if it were a fact, not a question.

Genji nodded, a tiny bit of heat flowing into his face.

“Not just one,” he added quietly.

Hanzo just blinked at him, not understanding.

“I have two soulmates, Hanzo.”

Genji saw the adam’s apple bob in his brother’s throat. He couldn’t help but hold his breath, waiting for the archer’s reaction.

“And you,” Hanzo stopped to clear his throat, “you want me to meet them.”

“Is that going to be a problem?” Genji asked cautiously.

Hanzo met his eyes, searching them for something in them. Genji was surprised to see something akin to fear in his brother’s eyes. A deep uncertainty and sadness that he hadn’t expected to see there.

“You honor me, brother,” Hanzo said at length.

Genji wrapped an arm around his brother’s shoulders and led him into the dining room where Angela and Zenyatta were waiting.

\---

In retrospect, Genji needn’t have worried.

Hanzo was a perfect gentleman. He did not get angry. He was not rude or treat the other team members badly. If anything he was more deferential to the two healers. Over steaming bowls of Udon they talked and laughed together. Even Hanzo allowed himself to chuckle once or twice.

“I was unconscious when Angela and I first met,” Genji explained eventually, “So it took me a while to realize why Ramen kept hanging around the med bay constantly.”

Angela beamed at him as the dragon in question popped her head up from her lap.

“Yes, I was rather confused as well,” Angela noted fondly, scratching behind the dragon’s horns, “But having Ramen around turned out to be quite nice.”

“It wasn’t until I met Zen that I really felt Ramen react,” Genji explained, “It took a while, but eventually I realized that she considered both of them to be our soulmates.”

Hanzo nodded and sipped his tea demurely. There was a sadness behind his eyes that Genji couldn’t quite place until, all at once, realization shot through him like ice water.

Hanzo had lost his soulmate.

It was so obvious—Hanzo traveled alone, he visited no one regularly, there was no one in his life really outside of Overwatch. And yet, Genji has somehow assumed that his brother had found his soulmate sometime in the last ten years. Hell, Genji had found two.

Hanzo had always been more attached to the idea of committing oneself to one person forever. He had loved the idea of a soulmate as a child, although sometime in his teen years the interest had tapered off. Genji had always assumed it was due to Hanzo’s ever expanding duties to the Shimada clan. But perhaps it was more than that. Genji wouldn’t put it past any member of his extended family to kill or otherwise dispose of his brother’s mate if they thought it was for the good of the clan. If they thought it would better keep Hanzo loyal to the family. They’d had no problem ordering Genji’s own execution. What would they do to someone not yet entangled in the family? If his brother’s mate had been someone frivolous or a foreigner… Had Hanzo had to do the deed himself?

Genji suddenly wished he still had his faceplate on so he didn’t have to mask the growing horror dawning on him. He reached for his tea cup with his left, completely cybernetic, hand to be sure it didn’t shake. Genji had known for a long time that the elders of the Shimada clan had carved something out of Hanzo’s heart. Genji had thought that being here, with him and with the other members of Overwatch might help his brother to heal as he had. But what if what they had carved out his soulmate? How could Genji ever hope to soothe that kind of wound?

And of all the insensitive things he could have done, he tricked Hanzo into sitting down with him and his unusually large number of soulmates.

By this point, Genji had lost the thread of the conversation. But Hanzo was smiling and Zen was doing that adorable feet-kicking thing he did when he laughed, so he figured it was going okay. The cyborg kept his cup of green tea pressed to his lips for an extra moment, just in case there was any remnant of his realization left on his face.

\---

The rest of the dinner went smoothly. Hanzo could be charming when he wanted to be. He wasn’t putting on a façade, portraying himself as a better version of himself, but he also didn’t put up the emotional walls he usually kept up around base.

Afterwards, Genji gave some flimsy reason why he simply had to walk Hanzo back to his room before returning to the suite he shared with Angela and Zen. They accepted it without question, used to his antics at this point, although Hanzo gave him a pointedly suspicious look.

“What is on your mind, brother?” Hanzo asked in Japanese as soon as they were out of earshot of the others.

His tone was not harsh. If anything, he seemed resigned. To what, Genji couldn’t be sure. Genji swallowed, more of a reflex than something he needed to do very often.

“I want to apologize,” he settled on eventually.

This was obviously not what Hanzo had expected him to say. The older brother’s eyes widened only a fraction, but it was enough for Genji to see his brother’s wave of surprise.

“I was excited to have you meet Angela and Zen properly. To introduce them as my soulmates,” he said.

Hanzo flinched ever so subtly and looked away. If there was anything to confirm Genji’s suspicions, it was that. He chose his next words with care.

“I did not consider how you would feel without… without your own soulmate by your side.”

Hanzo breathed deeply, letting out the air in a long, slow exhale. Carefully, he placed his hand on Genji’s green-glowing shoulder seam. Right where his cybernetic left arm met the flesh of his chest. He wondered if Hanzo somehow knew where that line was, even under the armor.

“I am happy for you brother,” Hanzo said at length. “I am happy that you have not one but two people who you love and who love you in return.”

Genji opend his mouth to respond, but Hanzo raised his free hand to stop him.

“Thank you, for inviting me to dinner. For trusting me,” Hanzo broke off for a moment before choosing different words. “For allowing me to know these other pieces of your life.”

Genji felt a slight increase in pressure on his armor where Hanzo’s hand was before it was removed.

“Anija—” he said softly, wanting to say something more, but mind coming up blank.

“Goodnight, Genji.”

Hanzo turned and walked the remaining distance to his room alone. Genji heaved a sigh and turned to walk to his own room, where he knew two wonderful souls would be waiting for him.

\---

Zenyatta quite obviously knew that there was something on Genji’s mind. But, as usual, he kept quiet, waiting for Genji to broach the subject in his own time.

The next morning, Genji wasn’t exactly hungover from the sake they’d shared over dinner the night before. He couldn’t entirely get drunk anymore, but he certainly wasn’t feeling his best as he stumbled out into the common room at 7am. He just wanted enough coffee to make his circuts short out.

Needless to say, Genji was not prepared to walk into the common room and be greeted by Jesse McCree’s ass.

Thankfully, it was covered in red plaid flannel pajama pants, but there was a large hole on one of the calves, showing a chuck of leg. A much hairier leg then he was prepared to deal with at seven in the morning.

The cowboy was on his elbows and knees, peering under one of the communal sofas and swearing up a blue streak.

“By all the double-barreled jumping jiminy, you get back here right now or so help me—“

Genji watched as slightly-transparent blue tail with a little tuft of fur at the end quickly swished out from the backside of the couch and then back under. He blinked twice, his brain trying to process what it had just seen.

“Jesse?”

The cowboy jumped, banging his head on the bottom of the sofa, causing him to swear again. His head popped up to the level of the couch cushions. His hair was messy, sticking up in all directions and he had toothpaste clinging to part of his mustache.

“Genji, thank God. Those little shits took off with my belt!”

A laugh bubbled up inside of Genji as the worries of last night suddenly disappeared like morning mist.

Jesse, for his part, scowled at the cyborg now laughing hysterically at him. He got up off the floor and rushed toward the refrigerator, keeping his eyes trained on the dark crevice under the sofa. He grabbed a few things out before rushing back to the floor by the hiding dragons.

“Alright you two. I’ve got some stuff you might like,” he told the couch as he inventoried the items in his arms. “Got some left over vegetables, but Hana cooked those so who knows how spicy they are. Ooh, a hardboiled egg, and some luncheon meat. Ham, yummy,” as he continued, he slipped into a placating little sing-song voice as if trying to tempt a toddler rather than two ancient spirits. To Jesse’s credit, one of the dragons did get close enough to the edge that the two men could see some semi-translucent whiskers twitching interestedly.

Wiping tears of mirth from his eyes, Genji decided to take pity on the cowboy.

“They are dragons, Jesse, not feral cats,” he chided, walking over to the kitchen area again but pulling open a drawer instead of the refrigerator.

“They don’t care for food,” he continued, pulling out a roll of tinfoil. “But they do like to horde shiny things.”

With a flourish, Genji tore off a length of tinfoil and shook it out noisily. Immediately twin mischievous heads poked out from under the couch. He felt Ramen appear on his shoulder as well. He sent a pointed look her way before crumpling the tin foil into a loose ball and sent it skittering across the floor. Two blue streaks followed it at once. Genji managed to catch the green dragon throwing herself off his shoulder before she could get in the middle of the tussle for the tin foil.

Jesse, not one to miss an opportunity, had already fished his belt out from under the couch. He secured the BAMF belt buckle around his waist with a tug and Genji couldn’t help letting out another laugh. He could see why the dragons had gone after it. Even in the low morning light, the belt buckle shimmered and winked like a magic treasure.

Ramen wiggled loose of his hold to jump lightly to the ground near her brothers. She sniffed them lightly and chirruped. The other two looked around immediately. Genji had just enough time to freeze in terror. The last time the dragons had seen each other had been in battle against each other. The time before that, the blue pair had been tearing him and Ramen to pieces.

All three dragons sprang into action after one heart-stopping moment. Hanzo’s dragons twisted together before wrapping themselves securely around Ramen’s form, creating a little column of dragons-- before starting to groom her. One started head-butting her scales lovingly while the other began combing her facial fur with his teeth.

Genji had unconsciously dashed forward, ready to tear the dragons apart if necessary. Instead he ended up standing there awkwardly, a little too close to the pile of dragons on the floor. Ramen looked up and chirruped happily at him, content in her brothers’ embrace.

Well, if Genji had wanted definitive proof that his brother no longer bore him ill will, this was it. The Shimada dragons were an extension of their masters’ souls. If Hanzo’s dragons no longer wished to destroy Ramen, then Hanzo no longer wished to destroy Genji, not even in the depths of his soul. In fact, it seemed that Hanzo’s soul wished to care for and protect his more than anything else—even the promise of tin foil treasure.

They also wanted Jesse McCree’s belt buckle.

Subtle.

Genji turned slowly away from the dragons toward the cowboy in question. Apparently content now that his belt buckle was returned, he had sat down on the floor to watch the dragons, peeled the hard boiled egg and started eating it. The Tupperware container of Hana’s vegetables and the package of lunchmeat lay abandoned near by.

“So Jesse, where’s Hanzo?” he asked, trying to sound innocent. He was 99% sure he knew where his brother was if his dragons were stealing things from Jesse’s room.

To his surprise, Jesse just innocently shrugged.

“I dunno,” he answered, mouth full of egg. “I jus’ woke up with these two on my bed. Some thanks I get for pettin’ them! Who the hell steals a man’s belt?”

“You pet them,” Genji repeated, hoping Jesse would catch a clue that this was not normal behavior for a dragon to tolerate.

“Uh huh,” Jesse said with a nod, spraying little bits of egg yolk onto the carpet. Oblivious.

Genji could only shake his head and try not he laugh again.

“What’re their names?” Jesse asked after swallowing the last of the hardboiled egg.

Genji opened his mouth to answer, then closed it again. “I named them all when I was three. Hanzo might have given them new names at some point…” he hedged the question, hoping Jesse might give him an out.

Jesse just looked up at him expectantly. Well, the cowboy had to call them something, didn’t he?

Carefully, Genji sat down beside the tangle of dragons, bringing the messy bundle into his lap. He extricated the green dragon, who dashed up his arm to curl around his neck like a scarf.

“Well you already know my dragon, Ramen,” Ramen chirruped at her name. “She is female, but both of Hanzo’s dragons are male. This is Soba, his horns are a little more curved and his face is a little more angular than this one, Udon.” He pulled each dragon apart as he mentioned their names, setting each one onto Jesse’s lap in turn.

“You named them after noodles?” Jesse teased, smiling broadly.

"I was three!" he spluttered, causing Jesse to laugh heartily. 

But he didn’t take much time for Genji. Instead he looked back down at the dragons on his lap, perfectly at ease in a way that few people would be when they had two mythical lizards near their groin.

Jesse raked his metal hand through his hair, straitening it somewhat but messing it up in other places.

“Pleasure to meet you gentleman properly,” he said in his signature drawl, running a hand over each of their heads to the obvious delight of the dragons. Soba stood on his hind feet to head-butt Jesse’s tousled beard.

Genji had never seen the two display such blatant affection for anyone other than Hanzo’s imitate family, and even then, only when they were children.

Hanzo was fucked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Hope you like this chapter. It's a little bit of a change of pace from the others and so long! It kind of got away from me, but I needed some time to set up Genji's view of the world. I only get to lightly touch on his relationship with Mercy and Zenyatta, but I have a lot of head cannons for that as well. 
> 
> My knowlege of Japanese culture and language is extremely limited (pretty much only business interactions and world history) but I hope I did okay with what I did touch on. My translations are just Google, so please let me know if I got anything wrong. 
> 
> A couple of people seemed to think that the dragons were going to lead Jesse straight back to Hanzo. Sorry if you're disappointed, but when I say slow burn, I mean slow. That said, we're probably a little more than halfway through at this point, so they'll actually talk to each other next chapter, promise :)
> 
> The names I picked for the dragons have obviously been used before (I mean noodle dragons, duh) but I don't know who to credit with the original idea. If anybody happens to know, feel free to comment and I'll make sure to attribute the names to them. 
> 
> Please, please, if you read this and like it, consider leaving me a comment. It sounds silly, but they really encourage me to keep writing and I love hearing from you guys!


	6. 6: Hanzo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanzo's POV - beginning one hour after the conclusion of the last chapter
> 
> In other news... Hanzo is bad at interpreting the emotions of himself and others

Hanzo stretched out languidly on the starchy blue sheets of his Overwatch Dorm room. He didn’t usually allow himself to sleep in this late. Usually he rose before the sun and performed some variation on the exercise routine he had been executing since the age of twelve. Usually, he was already showered, fed and starting his day by 8am. But today…

Hanzo stretched again, this time adding a yawn into the mix. He felt at peace in a way he hadn’t experienced since childhood. His bed felt warmer and more inviting than it had since his arrival. He wanted to continue to lie there, luxuriating in the warmth of the sun streaming through the window and the comforter pulled over his body.

He felt… content.

He felt like the world was a wonderful place to be this morning, where nothing bad was immediately going to happen and he could allow himself this time simply to relax. Not to be the perfect archer, or be the ultimate assassin. Not to be responsible for his brother’s choices or apparent death… simply to be.

He felt soothed, as if someone were running their fingers through his hair. As if someone were right beside him, running their hands over his overworked muscles and whispering sweet words into his skin. As if Jesse were there. As if Jesse were his.

The thought sent a little pang of longing through his chest but he banished the thought. Instead, he turned his face to the sun and tried to reclaim his tranquil mood. It only half worked.

He felt Soba and Udon appear and start moving over the covers, scratching in places, probably annoyed by the change in schedule, but Hanzo couldn’t be bothered to move. Sensing their master’s mood, the settled around him, bracketing him in on either side, soaking up the sun as well.

* * *

 

By the time Hanzo made an appearance in the common areas of the base, he had dressed. But the sleep rumpled, contented feeling followed him as surely as the dragons moved beneath the skin of his arm.

McCree was there, spread out over an entire sofa, looking up something on his tablet intently. Zenyatta was meditating in one corner, a playful Ramen darting between around the balls of his mala in a way that would have annoyed anyone else, but seemed to amuse the monk. Hanzo had to slap a hand to his arm when he felt Soba try to wriggle free and join his sister in her fun. Hanzo wasn’t particularly sure what would happen if the spirits were to meet again, but he didn’t want to find out on a morning such as this.

He felt oddly protective of his mood. He valiantly fought off any stray thought that might pierce the happy little bubble in his chest, but even that effort put strain on the contentment settled there. So instead, he fixed himself some tea and settled in a chair. If that chair just so happened to have a view of a certain cowboy spread out over the sofa nearby, that was just a coincidence.

It was equally coincidental that he was watching the long line of McCree’s forearm as he browsed the internet. Hanzo sipped his tea and felt his good mood settle a little more firmly.

“Good morning, Anija!” Genji said, as his faceplate popped into Hanzo’s line of sight, almost making the older man jump. “How are you feeling today?”

Hanzo’s good mood was officially gone. He loved his brother, but nobody could manage to annoy him quite so quickly. Particularly when Hanzo could practically feel his brother’s mind thinking up ways to meddle. He wasn’t entirely sure what Genji was trying to meddle with, but Hanzo was sure he wasn’t going to like it.

“I am well, thank you,” the archer answered evenly.

Out of the corner of his eye, Hanzo saw Jesse jump and look at him for the first time since he’d entered the room.

“I thought maybe you had too much to drink last night, after I—“

“I can handle my liquor, Genji,” Hanzo replied tersely.

It was amazing actually, how Hanzo could feel the scheming smile on his brother’s face, even when he couldn’t see it. How he could feel Genji switch tactics before he even opened his mouth.

“Isn’t it sweet how Ramen cares about Zen?” Genji continued, turning to look over at the meditating omnic. The dragon had also changed tactics. Now instead of running through orbs, she was curled up in the monk’s lap, happily nuzzling a ball of crumpled tin foil she must have pilfered.

Hanzo hummed in acknowledgment.

“It’s nice to see how much she loves the ones I love.”

The archer shot his brother a suspicious look. They had spoken about the dragons and their attachments just the night before. He wasn’t sure what the ninja was up to, but the explicitness of his words convinced Hanzo that his intentions were anything but innocent.

“You are blessed,” Hanzo agreed dryly.

“How are Soba and Udon?” Genji asked, tone obviously heading toward slyness.

Ah, so that was it. After the discussion of soulmates last night, Hanzo had expected the questions from his brother then. Of course, Genji had to be unpredictable and come back to question him the next day.

“They are well.” Hanzo said simply, taking a longer sip of tea than he would have otherwise.

“Have they…”

“They’re fine, Genji.” Hanzo cut him off with more force than he meant to. Hanzo’s eyes snapped up without his consent to check that Jesse was still on his holopad and not paying attention to their conversation.

It was a stupid move. He could feel Genji grinning in triumph. He’d figured it out somehow. Hanzo didn’t know wen or how, but he knew that his brother knew without a doubt the full extent of his feelings for Jesse McCree. Hanzo’s little glance toward the cowboy was more than enough of a confirmation between the two of them.

Hanzo stood. Not sure where he was going. Only that he needed to get away from the other men before he did something else stupid.

“I have business to attend to,” he said stiffly, falling back on his old excuse from before they left the Shimada clan.

He was sure that Genji saw through the flimsy pretext, but not particularly caring at that moment.

“I will speak with you later then, brother,” Genji replied, his voice laced with amusement.

Hanzo walked stiffly out of the room, too consumed with his own embarrassment to notice how Jesse’s eyes tracked his retreating form.

 

* * *

 

Hanzo wasn’t sure when the dragons had begun hording. He wasn’t quite sure when he noticed the first ball of tinfoil tucked into the folds of the pet beds in the corner. Perhaps it was when they’d first seen Ramen again, curled around Angela’s neck while she stitched up a keep cut on his forearm after a mission. Perhaps it was when he had had his first shooting competition with Jesse that ended in a tie, or maybe the rematch the next day.

Regardless of when it had started, he now had a collection of other people’s things pilled neatly in the corner of his room. There were plenty of balls of tinfoil, some in loose crumples, others smoothed into nearly perfect spheres. Presumably the crumples were taken off of leftovers in the fridge but he could only blame Genji for the spheres. A few of bullets showed up and one of McCree’s rediculous belt buckles (SAMF), the latter he pried from the beasts’ clutches and left by the cowboys door before it could be missed. But it didn’t particularly worry him until the cat toys started showing up.

He knew that the dragons like to hoard shiny objects. It was in their natures. The fact that they had created a pile here probably that they (and by extension Hanzo) were feeling more settled and wanted a space to call their own. But Hanzo had no idea where the brightly colored balls could be coming from. They looked roughly like pompoms, only made of colored foil that crinkled when the dragons chased them across the floor or settled on a small mountain of the things.

He made the mistake of asking Soldier:76 if there were any cats on base one morning.

‘There are no pets allowed on base,” he growled immediately. “You bring a cat in here and I will skin it alive, cook it and make you eat it.”

There was a stunned silence at the table before Jesse had laughed so hard he’d snorted up cereal milk through his nose. Brigitte and Hana just exchanged a look before going very pale.

Hanzo was reasonably sure that the old soldier had been joking, but not sure enough to keep up his inquiries.

It was only when Brigitte ushered him into her room three days later that his suspicions were confirmed.

“Don’t tell anybody,” she whispered, holding tightly onto his sleeve with her bone-cracking grip.

“Your secret is safe with me,” he assured her, scratching the fluffy orange cat on the head. A stripped tabby watched him from the top of a cat tree in the corner and Siamese wound between his legs. The Siamese let out a loud meow and he decided that Soldier:76 definitely already knew.

He ordered her some replacement cat toys the next day.

As the weeks wore on, the pile grew and grew, eventually taking up both of the pet beds in the corner and began to spill under Hanzo’s bed as well.

The competitions with Jesse had become a regular occurrence. Each time they came up with more and more ridiculous challenges for each other, pitting their abilities against the other. It became easier to be with Jesse with an activity to focus his mind and stop him form mooning over the cowboy. He felt like a teenager, smitten with a boy at school. He blushed and stumbled over his words around Jesse. He did his best to hide his affections but McCree’s easy smiles and utter precision with a pistol made it difficult.

More and more often, Hanzo found himself waking up from dreams that prominently featured the outlaw. Occationally he treated himself to long, warm showers where his thoughts would inevitably turn to warm honey-colored eyes, crinkled at the corners with a smile and thickly muscled legs.

But inevitably, he would step out of the small bathroom to find himself apart from two spirit dragons and a hoarded pile of tinfoil and cat toys.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really like cats... can you tell?
> 
> In other news, I hope you guys are all still enjoying the story. Things are starting to get real now... I wonder where those cat toys are coming from (spoiler alert, it's not Brigitte). I'm ahead on chapters again so it shouldn't be too long before the next update.
> 
> I'm nearing the end now writing wise so I'm finally getting an idea on how long this story will be. Figure somewhere around 9, 10 or 11 chapters.
> 
> Next up: Jesse's POV and some sake...
> 
> If you have a moment, please consider leaving a comment, I absolutely love hearing from you all and interacting with you. It really helps me stay excited about this story if I know that you guys are enjoying it as well :)


	7. Jesse - 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sake!  
> Jesse's POV

Sake was considerably stronger than Jesse had expected. He drank enough whiskey and rum that he felt fairly confident going drink for drink with Hanzo. In retrospect, it should have been a warning when Genji bowed out of the friendly drinking. It should have been a definite red flag when Hanzo started laughing openly at Jesse’s admittedly terrible jokes. But Jesse had never been so good about heeding warnings. His life was practically a series of ignored warnings. Sometimes it worked out, sometimes it didn’t. This time… well, it remained to be seen. 

They had returned a few hours ago from a mission in Numbani that had gone much better than expected. Although there had been a few close scrapes, the doomfist glove had been protected and the entire team was riding the high of victory. The rowdy group had trooped down to the town to celebrate. 

Jesse had already downed one glass of is usual whiskey before Hanzo had slid onto the barstool next to him with a bottle of sake. 

“That your favorite?” Jesse asked, gesturing with his empty glass.

Hanzo just sniffed. “It is passible. But I don’t find any other liquor quite as satisfying as rice wine.”

Genji had popped up between them, promising the best sake outside of Japan. Surprisingly, Hanzo hadn’t answered right away, his eyes flitting to Jesse quickly before back to his brother’s visor.

“Well I know I’ve gotta try this stuff now,” he said slowly. 

Jesse thoroughly enjoyed being carted off by the two brothers before being plied with the strong drink. It had seemed good going down, but not long after it hit his stomach, Jesse realized the force of the drink. 

But apparently, it made his jokes funnier. Hanzo was still laughing about a cowboy riding a horse named Tuesday as they walked back to base from the only Gibraltar dive bar that had decent sake (according to the Shimadas at least). He was leaning heavily against Jesse’s side and hadn’t put up even a token protest when the cowboy’s arm had slid around his shoulders. 

“That is a terrible joke, McCree,” Hanzo said with a shake of his head.

“Hey now, you’re the one that keeps laughin’ at it,” Jesse pointed out.

“This is true,” the archer admitted with another little chuckle. 

Neither man could ever be called a lightweight, but they both stumbled a bit over the uneven paving stones as they meandered back to base. Hanzo was noticeably more tactile with a belly full of liquor. He acted as if one shoulder was glued to Jesse’s chest, and he kept looking up at the taller man and smiling. From another man, Jesse might have even called it flirting. 

But Jesse was not so deluded to think that Hanzo was interested in him like that. He’d spent more time with Soba and Udon at this point than he ever had with the man himself. He had some well-buried hope that paying enough to the man’s spirit pets might make Hanzo notice him. But frankly, Jesse didn’t think it particularly likely. 

He wasn’t even sure of the archer’s sexual preferences. Hanzo was more than likely looking for a very different package than Jesse McCree could supply. Still, the happy little smiles Hanzo kept shooting his way were making him feel giddier than the sake. 

Then, suddenly, Hanzo shoulders jerked under his arm as a loud hiccup escaped the shorter man. 

There was a moment of total silence as the two stopped in the middle of the deserted street. It was just a moment, though, because Jesse couldn’t contain the full body laugh that erupted from his belly.

Hanzo scowled up at him, but the intimidating look was interrupted by another hiccup and lost much of its intensity. 

“Ya sound a li’l bit drunk there, partner,” Jesse teased, earning him another glare.

“I am not drunk,” Hanzo insisted, shoulders jumping with another suppressed hiccup. “I do not get drunk.”

Jesse laughed again, tugging the shorter man back under his arm and immediately finding himself supporting most of his weight. 

“Everybody gets drunk, darlin’,” he pointed out, “There’re just different levels of tolerances is all.”

“And what is your…” Hanzo paused, but Jesse wasn’t sure if it was for dramatic effect, or just to hiccup, “tolerance level?”

Hanzo had leaned in close by now, his head tilted up just so. He looked incredibly kissable. For a moment, Jesse let himself imagine what would happen if he did it—if he leaned down and closed the gap between their mouths. He imagined that Hanzo would sigh softly at the brush of his lips, that for a few precious moments, he might return the kiss. 

Jesse might be a fool, but he wasn’t an idiot.

He knew that after the shock had worn off, Hanzo would pull away. He might fix him with that searing glare, or he might look a little pitying before he turned away. But there was no version where Hanzo kissed back, where he pushed up onto his toes, chasing the kiss. No reality where beautiful, capable, intelligent Hanzo Shimada looked at Jesse the same way ever again. So Jesse focused on the pavement as he guided the two of them into the watchpoint and toward the residential section of the base. 

Jesse wasn’t particularly known for making wise decisions. What he forgot, was neither was Hanzo. 

In reality, he had no right to be so surprised when Hanzo’s callused fingers closed around his wrist and tugged him into a blind spot of Athena’s cameras. 

“Stop me if…” Hanzo began, voice rough with something as he searched for something in Jesse’s eyes. “Just stop me.”

Then Jesse’s lips were warm, utterly consumed by Hanzo’s own. Jesse’s arms were wrapped around the shorter man’s waist without conscious thought. Hanzo was kissing him. And Jesse might be an idiot but he wasn’t enough of a fool to not kiss back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More will be explained in the next chapter, but I just wanted to pop in and remind everyone that consent is important, folks! But no worries here, both parties are enthusiastically saying "yes," both in this chapter and the next one.
> 
> Next chapter will be Hanzo's POV again and we get some morning-after goodness as well as some well-loved noodles.


	8. 8 - Hanzo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please note there is some heavy self-loathing that pops up at the end of this chapter. Not anything graphic (in terms of sex or violence) but, please be aware and take care of yourself if you think this could send you in a bad direction.
> 
> Also I wrote the end of this very quickly, so I hope it all makes sense. Feel free to let me know if you find errors/typos/confusion.

Hanzo woke bracketed by two large arms. One was warm and hairy, the other cool and smooth. The sheets felt warm and luxurious against the bare skin of his legs and hips. His back was unusually warm as well and pressed up against something… furry?

 

Hanzo blinked his eyes open to find himself in an unfamiliar room. Although the bed felt much the same and the layout of the room was similar, this room had a southwestern Kilim rug covering the industrial-grade carpet squares and pieces of clothing laying haphazardly around the room.

 

He looked down to see a pair of powerful arms wrapped around his very naked torso. Hanzo felt the breath rush out of him all at once.

 

He remembered the night before (he hadn’t been _that_ drunk) when he had pulled Jesse into a kiss only to have that kiss returned enthusiastically. Jesse’s hands had twined around his waist and he’d all but shoved the cowboy through the halls toward their rooms.

 

“Your room or mine?” Jesse had asked breathlessly against Hanzo’s lips.

 

“Yours is closer,” Hanzo had growled back stupidly, like the half-hallway ,made a difference.

 

Luckily, Jesse hadn’t argued, simply produced his keys and shoved Hanzo up against the door so that they could continue kissing while it was unlocked. Once inside, their clothes had come off quickly in search of more skin-to-skin contact.

 

It was objectively stupid—reckless—and yet, Hanzo couldn’t find it in himself to regret the night before. Not yet anyway. He was sure that the shame and regret would set in later as it always had after a night of passion. But for now, he could bask in the warm sunlight and warmer affection of Jesse McCree’s room. For now, Hanzo could enjoy the feeling of a warm, firm body pressed against his back. Hanzo closed his eyes and breathed deeply, enjoying the musky scent of Jesse’s sheets.

 

_Clink_.

 

Hanzo squeezed his eyes tighter, willing the troubles of the world to stay away just a little longer. He couldn’t deal with a mission summons right now, or even just one of Jesse’s friends poking their noses in.

 

_Clink. Clang, rustle, clink._

 

Annoyed, Hanzo opened his eyes only to find the noise wasn’t coming from outside the door, but just inside the room where Soba and Udon were dragging Jesse’s gun belt toward the door.

 

_“What are you doing?”_ He hissed at them in Japanese, rolling out of bed and padding over to the two mischievous spirits.

 

He scooped up Soba just before the dragon’s tiny claws pressed the button that would release the door. Udon looked up at him from the floor with Jesse’s BAMF belt buckle held tenderly between his jaws.

 

“You aren’t to take Jesse’s things,” Hanzo rebuked softly, trying to wrestle the buckle free. Meanwhile Soba’s little feet wiggled through the air, scrabbling weakly against Hanzo’s arm.

 

“Wravwasvatt?”

 

Both archer and dragon froze as Jesse turned over and mumbled. One amber eye cracked open to survey the scene. Hanzo suddenly became very aware of how this must look. He was standing there, completely nude, holding a semi-transparent, blue dragon spirit which Jesse had likely only ever seen in the heat of battle. All while its twin absconded with one of Jesse’s prized possessions.

 

To Hanzo’s surprise, however, Udon dropped his prize in favor of bounding over to Jesse. Soba too, wriggled out of Hanzo’s suddenly slack grip. The two dragons stood on their hind legs, nosing at the cowboy’s slack hand and chirping excitedly.

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Jesse grumbled, making a point of sounding disgruntled even through the upturned corners of his mouth. “I know what you two want.”

 

Jesse then rolled onto his side and opened up the side table drawer to pull out… foil balls.

 

He tossed the two cat toys onto the carpet and the dragons pounced on them with fervor. Soba rolled around with his between his jaws while Udon rushed over to Hanzo to show off his prize. All Hanzo could do was hold out his arms when the dragon climbed up his leg and hold him as he crunched happily on the multicolored foil.

 

That was one mystery solved at least. The dragons weren’t just stealing cat toys out of boredom. No. They were saving gifts from Jesse. Their soulmate.

 

It was only once the dragons were happily munching away that Jesse seemed to notice Hanzo standing by the door, dragon lounging in his arms.

 

“Good Morning, Darlin’,” Jesse said with a smile that created little creases around his eyes. Like Jesse could think of no better way to start his day than by looking at Hanzo.

 

Hanzo didn’t think. He simply dropped Udon to the floor and climbed on top of his cowboy, kissing him soundly into the mattress.

 

* * *

 

 

In retrospect, it shouldn’t have surprised him that Soba was the one the wake him. The small dragon had always been more playful and pleasure-driven than Udon who cared more about honor and appearances. Hanzo had once considered Soba to be similar to Genji, although much had changed over the last ten years or so.

 

Nonetheless, Soba woke him up sometime later as he happily pounced onto Hanzo’s face. Hanzo scooped up the playful dragon and yawned. It was only when he started to sit up, however, that he noticed the delicious soreness in his muscles and the faint, finger-shaped bruises around his hips.

 

He could hear the water running in the little bathroom and the faint noises and splashes associated with a man washing himself in a shower that’s slightly too short to stand under comfortably.

 

An unfamiliar feeling was settling in his chest, unfurling slowly like tea leaves in hot water. The closest thing he’d ever felt to it was anxiety—the terrible worry that something was about to go horribly wrong. But instead of the chill of fear, this feeling was warm and drawing him toward the shower steam coming around the sides of the bathroom door.

 

He heard a thud and then a muffled curse from inside and thoughtlessly clutched Soba tighter to his chest. The dragon squawked unhappily and wriggled from his grasp, both dragons disappearing into blue light against his tattooed arm.

 

The warmth in his chest felt like it was either trying to drag him into the bathroom or choke him and Hanzo didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know what was supposed to happen after a night of drunken sex. Tackling someone and insisting on another round probably wasn’t the right answer, but he’d already done that. Too late to take it back now.

 

From inside the bathroom, Jesse started to whistle a low, gentle tune. A little bit lonely. A little bit mournful. 

 

Oh, God. What if Jesse regretted it?

 

They had both been rather inebriated last night. What if Jesse hadn’t really enjoyed their late-night activities? Or at least not as much as Hanzo had. What if Jesse resented the twin dragon spirits impeding on his time and the cat toys were simply a means of distraction, rather than the gifts the dragons craved? What if Jesse didn’t want any of this at all? Just because Hanzo couldn’t take his eyes off the cowboy didn’t mean that Jesse felt the same way.

 

Plenty of people had sex with other people that they found attractive but didn’t necessarily want to associate with outside the bedroom. Plenty of people might find Hanzo’s martial-arts trained body attractive, regardless of what they thought of him as a person.

 

Jesse had expressed a desire to take Hanzo to bed. That was all. The giddy happiness of the night before, the desperate kisses—those had all been from Hanzo. He had likely just seen what he’d wanted to see in Jesse’s honey-brown eyes. Jesse’s heated looks had undoubtedly been just that. A desire for sex. Nothing more. Nothing like what Hanzo ached for. 

 

Jesse wasn’t going to come out of the bathroom and kiss Hanzo sweetly on the mouth. Jesse wasn’t going to twine their fingers together in the commissary or place a hand on there archer’s hip during the team’s weekly movie night. Jesse had already gotten what he wanted out of their relationship. A friend. A warm body in bed. An enthusiastic fuck buddy.

 

Hanzo had been foolish to assume there could be anything more.

 

Jesse had never led him to believe that there would be anything more. It had only been Hanzo’s traitorous heart that had jumped ahead—had placed his own hopes onto Jesse and thought they were true, despite the lack of evidence.

 

Hanzo swung his legs out of bed and gathered up his garments. He didn’t want to be there when the water stopped running. Jesse wouldn’t want to see him. Not now. Not until there was another… mutually beneficial opportunity.

 

He could live with that. Hanzo thought as he tied his gi around himself. He could fight beside Jesse as ever—waiting for the moments when Jesse wanted him. Live for the brush of Jesse’s fingers against his skin in quiet, darkened moments. Hanzo had lived without his soulmate so far. Bedding him was more than he had dared to hope for in a long time. Hanzo could wait. He could be Jesse’s dirty little secret—be the murderer Jesse deigned to take to bed every so often.

 

Hopefully, Jesse wouldn’t decide that it had all been a mistake and stay farther away from Hanzo than ever. Hopefully, Jesse’s lust would get the better of him sooner or later and he would come looking for Hanzo. Hopefully, Hanzo wouldn’t just have this night, these few precious moments to hold onto.

 

Hopefully, he would get more than he deserved.

 

With a final tug on his boots, Hanzo stood and quietly slipped out of the door into the hallway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for sticking with me, I know it's been a while since the last chapter. Sorry, my smol beans must be sad before they can be happy, it is just the way of the world. I have 1-3 more chapters planned and another idea for a longer story with these two in the works. So... let me know if you're interested in that?
> 
> I super enjoy getting comments from you guys, they help motivate me to keep writing! More to come soon!


	9. 9: Jesse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jesse's POV

Two weeks. It had been two whole weeks since Jesse had stepped out of the shower to find his room (and his bed) notably archer-free. Hanzo had barely said a word to him since then. If Jesse walked into a room, Hanzo walked out. If Jesse raised his hand in greeting, it was pointedly ignored. Genji had shot the cowboy a few apologetic glances, but if Genji was getting involved, Jesse figured his chances were sliding from slim to none. 

Jesse mostly just wished that he knew what it was he’d done to earn the archer’s ire. Yeah, they’d been a little drunk when they’d tumbled into bed, but not so much that it would have affected his judgment that much-- right? Even if Hanzo had been drunker than he thought, that didn’t explain what had happened in the morning. It didn’t explain the excitement in Hanzo’s eyes when he’d pinned Jesse down and kissed him senseless. It didn’t explain the sleepy little smiles they’d shared right before Jesse had gotten up and taken that damn shower. 

Jesse had been trying to talk to Hanzo about it, but he couldn’t get the archer to stay in the same vicinity, let alone engage in conversation.   
At least the dragons were still talking to him-- well not talking, but they weren’t ignoring him. Whenever Hanzo was on base, the two dragon spirits seemed to make it their mission to wake him up in the mornings. They’d appear mid-air above his bed, just to pounce down on the cowboy’s chest. They’d trill and chirrup until Jesse gave in and got out of bed. They'd follow him out to breakfast and sit on his lap or shoulders or hat while he devoured his eggs and toast. 

It was one of these mornings that Mercy cornered him. 

“You are months overdue for your physical, McCree,” she said sternly. 

Soba curled around his shoulder protectively and growled at the Doctor. 

“Hey now, that ain’t polite,” Jesse rebuked, using one hand to ruffle the soft fur around his dragon’s neck. 

Soba trilled, upset by the rough treatment and shook his head. 

Angela couldn’t hold back a soft laugh. 

“It’s only natural that they should dislike me if I’m trying to take some of your time,” the doctor said with barely suppressed mirth. 

Jesse snorted.

“They can share,” he said with mock-gruffness, picking Udon up from his lap and depositing him on the table. 

Udon promptly got up and crawled back into Jesse’s lap. 

Angela, however just tilted her head to one side and took a seat beside Jesse at the large wooden table. 

“How much do you understand about the Shimada Dragons?” she asked, taking an orange from the fruit bowl at the center for the table that Jesse was sure only she actually ate from. Maybe Ana too.

“Not much,” Jesse admitted, prying Undon from his lap again. “Only that they like shiny things and act like long cats.”

“Hmm,” Angela said enigmatically as she continued peeling her orange. Or maybe it was a tangerine. 

“Why d’ya ask?”

“Ramen started hanging around the med bay shortly after Genji joined Blackwatch,” Angela said. “The first time she appeared in my lab was the morning after we had sex for the first time.”

Jesse worked to keep his face neutral but his eyes bugged out a little bit at her frank tone. 

“I, er-- That ain’t what’s goin’ on. With me and Hanzo I mean. They’ve been hanging around for a long time…” Jesse floundered.

Angela just raised one perfectly arched eyebrow. 

“We ain’t together,” Jesse settled on finally. “Not like you and Genji and Zen.”

“That may be,” Angela said, offering him a slice of her tangerine. “Nonetheless, they consider you to be Hanzo’s mate.”

Jesse nearly choked to death on that damn tangerine. 

\----------------

Armed with this information, Jesse started to observe the elder Shimada brother a little differently. Well, when he could. The archer was still studiously ignoring him. But Jesse was able to notice the faintest traces of a blush when he waved across the room before the archer turned tail and all but ran out of the room.

Jesse also took note of the way the dragons sought out physical contact like a drug. Both dragons were happiest curled around him in bed or in his arms in the common room. He started giving them more snuggles. Little kisses on their heads and scratches behind the ears. It became habit remarkably quickly.

Not even a week later, Jesse found himself sprawled out in the common room with two happy dragons sprawled over his shoulders. He had spent the morning helping Winston clean out one of the old storage rooms that had somehow remained untouched since the old Overwatch days. It had been a long day of moving boxes and trying not to breathe in too much dust. Jesse had eventually taken a page out of his favorite cowboy movies and tied a bandana over his mouth and nose just to keep the dust out of his lungs. They’d found a number of things that Winston had chattered about happily, but what had caught Jesse’s attention was discovering Rayes’ old guitar. 

Jesse had never been particularly good at the instrument. He’d never even tried to master the mariachi chords that had came so easily to his older commander. But the cowboy could manage a few old country songs. Could strum out a few tunes that reminded him of simpler days when he thought a gang was a good life plan and then later when he’d thought Overwatch would last forever. 

In the harsh light of the afternoon, Jesse had propped himself up against a wall with his hat tipped low over his head and softly plucked out the chords to “Fire and Rain,” “American Pie,” and “Sweet Baby James.” The dragons seemed particularly taken with James Taylor, so he just kept strumming the lullaby and singing to the happy little spirits. 

“Goodnight, you moonlight ladies,   
Rockabye sweet baby James.  
Deep greens and blues are the colors I choose,  
Won’t you let me go down in my dreams?  
And Rockabye sweet baby James.”

Udon let out a rumble and rubbed his head against Jesse’s beard. Without thinking about it, Jesse leaned over and pressed a little kiss to the fuzzy head. Before changing up the words a little.

“Oh goodnight, ya spirit dragons,  
To Ramen, Soba and Udon,  
Deep greens and blues are the colors I choose,  
Won’t you come and follow along?  
Oh my dragons, Soba and Udon.”

Udon then stood up, demanding a kiss of his own and letting out a pleasant rumble when it was granted. It was at this point that Hana let out an audible “Aww!!!” which caused Jesse to look up from the guitar and dragons. 

Directly across from him, standing red faced in the doorway was a very flustered Hanzo. For a split second, Jesse thought the archer was enraged. He certainly looked it, stalk still and bright red with his hands clenched at his sides. But after a moment, Jesse couldn’t help but notice the insistent happy rumbles of the two dragons on his shoulders. 

More out of habit than anything, Jesse turned his head and pressed a quick kiss to Soba’s head. Luckily, he kept his eyes trained on the archer in the doorway and was rewarded by seeing Hanzo turn an even more violent shade of red. He stood there for a moment longer--long enough for Jesse to formulate a plan. He turned his head to Udon and nuzzled into the dragon’s soft fur affectionately. Hanzo opened his mouth but no words came out. Instead, he turned around and flew away from the common room. 

“Well shit,” Jesse swore quietly. “I think I scared off your daddy, boys,” he told the dragons but they had already disappeared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eep, another chapter guys! Sorry about the wait, I've been focusing on job hunting lately and only writing longhand in my spare time, so it's taken me a while to get this chapter typed up and finished. 
> 
> There's just one more chapter from Hanzo's POV left and then maybe an epilogue, we'll see how well it wraps up. 
> 
> In the meantime you may be interested in my other McHanzo story, Oh Darlin' set in more of a modern AU where Hanzo is a successful but closeted businessman and Jesse is a sex worker and things don't really work out the way you might expect. It's a longer-form story but if you like my writing, you might find it interesting while I bang out the last of both stories. Just to set your expectations properly, that story is just getting into the meat of Act 1 of the story structure, while this one is wrapping up Act 3. 
> 
> As ever, please, if you enjoyed I really appreciate it if you take the time to leave a comment. It really makes my day and I try to get back to all the comments at some point. It also helps me know that other people actually care about the stories in my head :)


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